Love Redeemed, Book 4 (34 page)

“Awww, c’
mon, Jacobs!” she yelled out. “Lighten up!”

The boater laughed, and to add to her merriment, he zagged the boat again. This time Rayna scrambled for the
handlebar, nearly losing her hold.

“
STOP THIS BITCH!
” I screamed at the top of lungs. The guy’s head jerked back to me, his eyes damn near popping out of their sockets. “
RIGHT FUCKIN’ NOW!
”

The motor slowed, then sounded to stop. I dove into the water before it
was able to halt and swam to Rayna. I caught her just as she started to wobble from a loss of forceful wind. Maneuvering her onto my back, I swam a few feet to shore.

The instructor met us in the water,
waving his hands frantically; asking in his native tongue what the hell was I doing. I made sure Rayna was on her feet when I answered him.

“
Your boy on the boat is going to get his shit cracked!” I threatened.

“
Azmir,” Rayna called out and her little hand grabbed me at my abdomen. “It was just a little fun,” she tried to mollify my brewing anger.

“
Fun my ass! His bitch ass could have drowned you out there!”

Just then
, the little boater waded through the water to his boss, the instructor, the instructor still questioning in a panic at the incident.

“
It okay, man,” the boater attempted with a bawled mouth. “Just a little bump. She fine!”

The little
fucker had the nerve to appear to be charging at me. When he’d made it into the less-than-two-feet-into-my-circumference range, all I registered was his puckered brows and his chest out.

This little dude is posting!

“Every fucking thing’s okay, man! Relax—”

His wide ass head made a huge splash in the foot of water when he collapsed.

“Azmir!” Rayna yelped. “No!” She jumped in front of me.

The instructor yelled out,
“What the hell you doing! I call the cops!”

“
Yo, Divine!” I soon realized it was Marcus’ warning.

He knew to make himself known before he touched
me at the height of anger. It’s actually a
Clan
rule, but especially needed to be practiced when dealing with me because of my reputable speed with the
ones
.

“
Time to roll, duke,” he pleaded.

I turned to Rayna
whose eyes were now very much sober, lifted her over my shoulders and made our way over to the yacht.

As I marched with her draped over me
, I heard the instructor yell, “Aye! You don’t leave! I call cops!”

T
hen Marcus spoke up, “You ain’t got no wins getting him back here. How much do your compadre want for the bitch slap? And don’t give me nothing cray ‘cuz Boss ain’t even meet dude with a jab.”

I was well beyond livid, I was fucking pissed. We boarded
the boat and I took off to the shower and then to the office there on the lower deck to get a few things done. I didn’t come up until dinner.

At dinner
, there was absolute silence, but this wasn’t peaceable. In spite of myself, I noticed Rayna looked tempting on a long, black tube dress. Her hair was all pulled back and she wore only lip-gloss. I observed how she didn’t have any alcohol with her meal. She barely looked at me—not that I’d exactly gaped at her either. It was then that my anger turned into disappointment. I was ashamed of myself for fighting so quickly after reciting our vows, and on our honeymoon, no less. This isn’t how we should’ve started, not how I planned this trip to be.

After our meal, I found myself on the roof
top patio, enjoying the night air. I sat up there reflecting. I fought with myself for being such a damn hothead. I didn’t mean to lose my cool,
but dammit, it is my job to protect her
. This means if she’s sloshed during our honeymoon and being careless, it was my duty to be aware of all danger.
Besides, that piece of shit was flirting with her.
That had pissed me off as well.

Regret began growing in my chest.
I’d hoped that I hadn’t blown her honeymoon. She’d shown more merriment and had been more jovial than I’d ever seen her. Just like when water skiing, she laughed endlessly—even to a point of carelessness. But could I fault her for that? Isn’t that what I’d worked so hard to knock down—her guards? Rayna was lighthearted, loving, fearless, and opened to trying new things, like swimming in the ocean and horseback riding. She’d admitted to not having ever done those things and yet, she willingly gave them a try...for me.

Just when I’
d decided to go find my bride and grovel my way into her good graces, she appeared at my side. I immediately noticed the somber look in Rayna’s eyes. There was something brewing in the back of them. I’d soon find out just what when she kneeled before me, pulled down my lounge pants, and made love to me with her mouth. I knew right away this was her way of apologizing, something she wasn’t always good at expressing. But by the way she had me clawing up the chair in almost no time, I’d gotten the sentiment. And when I’d cried out in ecstasy like a little bitch, I couldn’t remember what angered me in the first place.

We sat out there, on top of the boat, staring into the obscurity of night. Rayna sat at my foot, resting her head against my leg
in peaceful quiet. My chest had loosened tremendously. The silence said so much, taught me an abundance.

At some point
, a deck crewmember brought out a tumbler of brandy. “Mr. Jacobs, sir,” He placed the glass on a small table he’d brought out with him. “Mrs. Jacobs requested a nightcap.” With curious eyes, I nodded to him. He then turned to go back down the steps.

“You didn’t want one yourself?” I asked quietly.

Rayna never turned to face me. “I’ve had enough for today,” she murmured.

I could hear the miscellany of emotions in her tenor.
Guilt tumbled through my veins again. I didn’t want her to carry this shit like it was all on her. I hadn’t been beyond reproach earlier. I took a long swig of my drink.

“We’re goo
d,” I tossed aloud, enough for her to catch my sentiment.

She didn’t
respond right away, but I knew she read between the lines. We were good. A minor quarrel didn’t classify us as doomed. After a beat, I glanced over at the top of her head. Rayna didn’t move much; she was stilled like a mannequin, gazing at the dark ocean. She didn’t speak until moments later.

“I know,” she sighed lowly. “This is all I’ve got. If I lose you, I don’t know where that would put me. We
have
to be…good.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that so I didn’t. I did, though, meditate like hell on it up there that night. Aside from that, I took it all in. I enjoyed the moment, relished the phenomenon that was having my wife at my side as we charted unfamiliar terrain.

The following evening demonstrated a vast improvement of both our dispositions. We had a private dinner at an exclusive restaurant on the beach of Puerto Vallarta, the place where we’d taken our first vacation together.
My, how times have changed
. The architecture was splendid as it was laid out in the design of a cave. We ate by mostly candlelight and enjoyed exemplary culinary and artful spirits.
Lots of spirits
. Rayna’s giggles didn’t return, but her minx persona did.

After we left the restaurant, we decided to take a walk on the beach. We made it to a festival of some sort where the natives were dancing almost in a hurdle, similar to when w
e were in The Bahamas for Rayna’s birthday last year. And just like last year, eventually someone pulled Rayna into the circle that was centered by a fire-pit. Unlike last year, Rayna obliged and was mimicking the natives in no time. I’d guessed that was a part of the talent of a dancer.

Before I knew it, Rayna pulled me into a seat near the center blaze and gave me the most indecent dance in public. Her hips g
yrated at varied but consistent rhythmic speeds. Her ass swayed in my crotch, my face, and at one time on my shoulder. She bent low, displaying the feminine curve of her spine that led out to the bump of a cherry that was her rear. The globes of her breasts stayed contained in the two thin pieces of material that was detached, deliciously displaying her neck down to her abdomen, though her pebbled nipples couldn’t be concealed.

I sat
and raptly watched her twirl her ass incessantly, to the beat of the live drum, to the point of sweat beads covering her perfectly bronzed skin. Her eyes stayed on me just as mine were stapled to every inch of her. I’d barely heard the roaring whoops and cheers from the crowd, especially by the head female dancer who was clearly impressed with my lady’s moves.
My wife
. I could only hear the breath she extracted in my ear as she bent down at one point to lick the rim. My muscles went rigid—every tissue in my body came alive while in that chair watching my wife bring art to life with her delicious body.

At the show
’s end, I found her gazing down on me, intently, still in performance mode. I, myself, was still enraptured by her carnal cadence. I heard the blood rushing through my head. My heart rate peculiarly increased in excitement. My pants all of a sudden felt tight. There was only one thing to do.

Cave
man is right.

I
rose from the chair, dipped to toss Rayna over my shoulder, and marched to the hotel suite where we were registered to stay that night. After throwing Rayna’s ass on the bed, I doffed my clothes, and watched her eyes and mouth collapse. Roaming my eyes around the room, an idea comes to the dome and I walked to the bathroom. When I returned, I peeled her out of her long taupe dress, tie her to the bed with the belt of the hotel’s bathrobe, and used Rayna’s body as the instrument she presented it as on the beach. I licked her ferociously and then fucked her properly. Rayna’s cries were unrestrained. Her expressions of ecstasy were a bonus because I couldn’t help but plunge into her body as though it was mine to exploit.
Damn right, I’m barbaric
. She’s mine and each orgasm she reached that night confirmed it.

My honeymoon was fucking great.
It didn’t last as long as I’d liked it to, because of Rayna’s obligations at work. Nonetheless, I married the first and only woman who makes my heart leap and my toes fucking curl. I thought I’d been on top of the world before, but this feeling trumps any contentment I’ve ever had.

I finally have Rayna.

My life.

Rayna

I’m exhausted. Absolutely drained as I sit at this table, entertaining my family before their flight
back to Jersey in a couple of hours. Chyna and Tay are buzzing with youthful energy, Azmir is tapping away at both his phones while we wait for dessert, and my grandmother’s discomfit in a restaurant is on full blast by the way she’s sitting up in her seat, posting her chin in the air. Also, her high pitched formal tone rings each time a waiter offers her more bread and to refill her drink.

Funny thing is
, we strategically decided on this restaurant,
DiFillippo’s
, minimizing the pretentious air that formal ones Azmir has been known to take me to hold. This one is quite modest and private, something I relish at this point in his career. There will likely be no cameras flashing or paparazzi hanging out in bushes once we exit. That would freak my grandmother out and, of course, thrill the girls.

This restaurant is nestled
just outside of Santa Monica and we’re seated in a private section in the rear corner. Azmir and I are seated together on a loveseat with brocade jacquard upholstery. The girls, across from us, are sharing the same furniture, and my grandmother is in a tall chair at the head. The dim lighting plays on my mood of needing to relax…with Azmir…in the comfort of our home…alone.

The waiter comes
to clear our dessert plates and offers to refill my glass of pinot noir, to which I decline. Azmir ordered one of the most expensive bottles in the house for me to have consumed just a glass of it. I would’ve been content with just a glass and not have wasted his money. It wouldn’t be a good look to increase the level of buzz I have going now.

I’m humming with desire for my husband
. We returned from our honeymoon three days ago and haven’t been intimate since. We’ve been practically separated from the moment we arrived back in Southern California outside of taking Erin on Azmir’s cabin cruiser the day after we returned home. He was extremely generous in taking off a few hours to help get us reacquainted. Azmir virtually went right into work, and I acclimated myself at home, sorting laundry and mail while entertaining our houseguests. Then earlier today I concentrated on grooming by getting my hair, eyes, nails, and feet done and treated my grandmother and the girls, too.

Azmir
has risen early and turned in late since our honeymoon. I have a sneaking suspicion that he’s trying to give me alone time with my family. Either that or he can’t manage too much time with squealing young girls who clearly have crushes on him. If Chyna lived close, I’d have to get a handle on the way she melts in my husband’s presence. But for now, I decide to live with it.

Azmir and I
decided together to take my family out for dinner before their flight tonight as a means of sending them off properly. And outside of stomaching the frolics of teens, all I can think about is having Azmir all over me; his mouth, hands, arms, and…ummmm other extremities. I’ve been telling myself since we pulled off from the marina that I just have to get through dinner.

My god
.
We’ve just returned from our honeymoon where we made love all but two days—and that was from Azmir’s insistence of my receptacle needing a break. I don’t know what the wedding vows have done to me, but my appetite for this man has increased tenfold since saying
I do
. It doesn’t help that he’s sitting slouched, b-boy style on the bench next to me. Azmir is clad in a hoodie, premium denims that sag just a bit—thank goodness not too much—and classic construction
Timberland
boots.

Geesh!
Azmir’s known to switch up his fashions, and rarely does he do the d-boy look with his work schedule. Nevertheless, other than his suits, nothing turns me on more than seeing him in a pair of jeans and classic six-inch Timbs! He’s mouthwateringly delicious and I want him so badly it hurts. It also doesn’t help that he’s in a mood. Not one that’s foul, but certainly isolated and absorbed. Oddly, the combination of it all turns me on. I need to change my focus and
no
—more alcohol won’t help.

“So,” I start to speak before my phone
goes off. This is strange because I rarely receive any calls. I barely have friends, and I’m here with Azmir. “What have you guys done on your trip to L.A.?” I pose the question as I tap into my phone for the text app.

The girls start to giggle conspiratorially
as they peer into their phones, much to my dismay. I’ve had enough of their childish antics and can only imagine what’s on their screens.

It
’s from Azmir.

I know you wanna fuck
.

W-
what?

“I see y’all,”
I look up to find my grandmother’s eyes pointing to Azmir and me. “…ain’t no better with them phones. I see y’all just typing away, too!”

“Well
?” I push them for an answer. My grandmother just smiles, I’m sure camouflaging her frustrations with their silliness herself.

Completely
jolted by Azmir’s text, I type back.

What makes you think that?

“We visited Ma at her place by the beach—” Chyna attempts.

“That’s Rayna’s place,” my grandmother sharply replie
s.

“That’s what I meant,” Chyna retort
s, feigning rebuke. Then comes another string of laughter from the pair.

His response co
mes almost instantly.

I c
an feel your pussy reverberating from the bench.

My eyes slowly collapse as my head tilt
s down towards the floor. It’s the same accurate assessment he made that night at the reopening of
Mahogany
. I throw him a gaze, but Azmir completely ignores it, appearing heavily engaged in his phone.

“And what else, Chyna?” I tr
y regaining myself.

“Ummmm…went to the beach,” she explain
s. “Went sightseeing, even though Grandma was being corny with acting all scared.

Tay chime
s in, “We saw Hollywood, too. That was hyped!” The girls slap high fives with goofy smiles on their faces.

My phone toll
s again.

I am g
oing to fuck you so hard, your grandmother will hear you scream my name while she’s mid-transit.

“Ummmm…honey,” I call out to Azmir, catching him off guard. “I think we’re ready for the check now!”

Back in his Range Rover, Azmir drives with my grandmother in the front seat and Chyna, Tay and me in the back. The girls keep entertained by giggles and semi-verbal communications beyond my knowledge. They’re whispering things that I can’t hear even if I cared to. I look in the rearview mirror ahead to see Azmir concentrating on the road.

“Have you heard from Grandad?” I thr
ow out to my grandmother. I serendipitously slipped her a generous check before we got back into the truck. She doesn’t know the amount, I’m not sure if she even knows it’s money in the envelop.

“I told you!”
Chyna challenges Tay. “Ask her.”

I d
on’t give much thought to that exchange at the time, still listening out for the answer from my grandmother.

“I called him last—”
 

“Do it!” Chyna blurt
s out, cutting my grandmother off. “You want me to do it?” Chyna’s eyebrows peak.

“You know, I am so sick of you two already!” My grandmother barrel
s out. “Ask who what?” She twists in her seat to face them. I guess she, too, has had her fill of these two.

“Shhhhh!” Tay hushed Chyna.

With a grimace, Chyna argues, “What, Tay? My sister is cool. She ain’t gon’ trip.”

“Trip off what?” I ask, silently praying they
aren’t about to confess to going through our drawers in the master suite.

“Shhhhhhh…” Tay trie
s again, fighting back her nervous laughter.

“No,” Chyna thr
ows her outstretched hand in Tay’s face to mute her. “…we was just on IG telling this broad that those rumors about you ain’t true—”

“Rumors? What rumors?” my grandmother demand
s before I can process the same question.

“The ones from back in the day. People was saying Rayna was a gold-diggin
’ hoe because she stole O’s money. And him and Keeme killed that lil’ girl in the shootout because O was gonna kill Rayna, but Keeme got to him first and before he could get at Rayna because O shot J-Boog. Then, they both got locked up, killing that lil’ baby.” Chyna won’t let up for air. “And what I’m saying on IG is my sister got a fat ass—
my bad Grandma
—crib out here. And even though her boss is a baller, she got her degree and a good job. She ain’t never need to rob O of all that money they said she did. Right, Rayna?”

My eyes sh
oot up to the rearview mirror again, and this time is met by Azmir’s quizzical ones. The car is absolutely quiet. I don’t know where to begin. There are so many lies interweaved with the truths of that story. Similar to the old adage: you whisper a story in the ear of the first in the circle, and by the time it gets to the last, it’s a completely new fable. Matching the truths against the lies doesn’t matter because now Azmir has a good perspective of what is fact. Between what I’ve told him previously and peppered details Chyna has just inadvertently revealed, so many of my fears are released to wreak havoc on my sound world. Under his brooding gaze, my lids collapse shut.

“First of all, young lady, Rayna ain’t never been rumored to be no gold digger. She left home with barely a penny to her name and made something good of herself. And if you could stay off the Internet, you could do the same. Now shut that phone off!”

The remainder of the ride
is quiet. Azmir helps the ladies with their luggage into the airport while I stay out in the waiting car, trying to keep from hyperventilating. I can’t believe this is happening to me. For years, I never wanted family out here in L.A., not wanting them to tamper with what peace I had, at first, then with my happiness with Azmir once he came into my life.

About ten m
inutes into the drive, Azmir breaks the ice. “You wanna talk about it?” he asks expectantly.

I close my eyes to hold back the tears that
are threatening. On an ordinary day, I would simply say no, I don’t want to discuss such a personal matter. But this is no ordinary day. These aren’t normal circumstances. There isn’t anything typical about my being right now. Before I left for my nuptials, I could employ the word
privacy
to barricade my secrets. Today, no armor can shield what Azmir has every right to inquire of. My past.

On a shaky breath, I forge ahead. “
There was so much she said that was completely off, I don’t know where to begin.”

“How about with
what’s true?”

My eyes dart over to him. He d
oesn’t react. Azmir wears a placid expression as he navigates the Ranger Rover. My mind races with thoughts, trying to decide where to begin.

“O was my high school boyfriend
.” I shut my eyes at the rare remembrance of him. “The only boyfriend I had. He and my brother got into it one night behind rumors…about me sleeping with my brother’s best friend—”

“
Were you?”

“No!” I glare at him. I’ve never been that type of girl and I hope he
isn’t accusing me of it. “They were rumors made up by a so-called friend of mine. A friend that was sleeping with my
boyfriend
underneath my nose.” I shift in my seat, blindly gazing ahead “Anyway, one night everything hit the fan. O went to approach my brother’s best friend, J-Boog and ended up killing him. Then my brother, Akeem, got into a shootout with O…to avenge J-Boog’s death. In the crossfire was a toddler who was killed.”

A shiver r
uns through me at the memory of it. A little girl lost her life from my drama. I don’t deserve to have kids. At times, I wonder if I even deserve Erin. That innocent little girl losing her life was so unfair. If I could do things different, I’d start with not giving O my attention all those years ago.

“And the money?” Azmir’s baritone w
akes me from my musing. “What about that is true?” I notice his brows pinch. He’s growing impatient.

I exhale
, hoping he’d forgotten that mention. I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I didn’t steal the money…exactly. He’d been locked up for the murder when I’d decided to leave town for
Duke
. I needed money; my father had disappeared and my mother was fighting for her life after having overdosed. My grandparents were too preoccupied with Chyna, so I didn’t want to burden them with asking for money to go. Out of nowhere, I remembered an account O had opened in my name for emergencies. He said that if he died, I was to keep it…to not even tell his mom about it for his funeral. I went to the bank expecting there to be a couple hundred dollars at best.” I let go of another breath, feeling my heart rate increase. “I emptied the account and left home hours later.”

“How much was it?”